


I Am Not A Sacrifice (She is a Gift)

by LadyHallen



Series: This is your fault, Ms. Jellyfish! [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Don't repost, Dragon AU, F/M, Gilgamesh is an oracle and we stan a truth speaker, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27023149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyHallen/pseuds/LadyHallen
Summary: When Sansa was a fourteen, a dragon came to the North.
Relationships: Cor Leonis/Sansa Stark, Sansa Stark & The North
Series: This is your fault, Ms. Jellyfish! [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982642
Comments: 11
Kudos: 77





	I Am Not A Sacrifice (She is a Gift)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thesuspiciousflyingjellyfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thesuspiciousflyingjellyfish/gifts).



> Hey, so this is for the Captain of the SanCor ship, Ms. Jellyfish! She has written like, a lot for this ship. Anyway, here's my contribution!

When Sansa was a fourteen, a dragon came to the North.

It was large, pale and blended terrifyingly well with the snow. It also ate its body weight in cattle, something that had Sansa’s father age ten years before his time.

“We cannot kill that dragon,” she remembered him saying. “Its hide is as thick as a boulder and our blades would just bounce off it. It breaths ice and snow and it causes an avalanche every time it moves its tail or its wings.”

There was despair in Winterfell and Sansa did her best to be extra behaved. It wasn’t fair to her parents to have to worry about Sansa when they had a dragon to worry about as well. She ushered her siblings into being careful and Robb, for the first time, seemed to understand and helped as well. He didn’t go about with Theon in Wintertown and instead took over some of fathers duties.

And then they received news that the dragon had asked for a meeting with all the lords of the North.

“It must be a trap!” Sansa’s mother said. Her red hair, usually up in a careful braid, was loose and frazzled, a reflection of how the dragon worried her.

“We have no choice,” Sansa’s father said. His face was grim and unsmiling. Not even Arya could make him laugh. “If we do not reach a compromise, that dragon will eat us out of food and all the winter stores in a week.”

All the lords of the North converged on Winterfell, and it was a testament to the size of the castle that it managed to host all the lords, and all the guards that the lords brought with them.

Sansa had been practicing being a hostess in a while and she did her best to help her mother. It made mother smile, which was something of an accomplishment in itself.

Then, the dreaded day came and the dragon arrived. Its wingspan blocked out the sky and a great cry of fear came up from everyone.

Sansa looked out of the battlements where she had sneaked out with her siblings, Robbs head beside hers and Arya’s fingers tight in her hand. Rickon wiggled and went still while Bran just gasped in awe. Sansa took deep breaths. Her siblings would make fun of her forever if she fainted.

“You are all here, good,” the dragon said, voice deep and roiling like a thunderstorm. “I will speak, and you will listen.”

“Not like you gave us a choice, you’ve almost starved us to death here,” GreatJon Umber bellowed back at the dragon.

The dragon reared back its great head and roared. “I will speak, and you will listen!” making everyone’s ears ring.

There was a moment of terrified silence, and then Sansa’s father moved forward.

“Speak then, and we will listen,” Sansa’s father yelled up at the dragon.

The dragon rumbled and there was a moment of panic, before they all realized that yes, the dragon was pleased. Purring, like a cat.

“My name is Gilgamesh, and I am here to give you all a warning,” it rumbled. “A great Winter is coming, a storm of snow, ice and hail that will envelope your country for long, long years. If you are not careful, you will all die of the hunger and the starvation.”

There was a great deluge of whispers, but under the dragons gimlet stare, went quiet again.

“I notice that there is a heart tree here, a proper one. Good. If a Stark Monarch bleeds on the tree during Winter, you can lessen Winters hold on the land,” the dragon pronounced. “A week for every cup of blood.”

“There are no Stark Monarchs,” Robb hissed in her ear. “Or Kings or Queens at all. Ever since the Targaryen conquest, there have been no Stark Kings.”

Sansa looked at her pale brother. He seemed to understand what the dragon was saying. Sansa too felt that dawning horror of the inevitable.

“Lastly,” the dragon rumbled. “I am dying. My child is coming and will be of great aid to you, for he breathes fire. You will all take good care of my child, for he was born the Eternal Flame of Summer. You will need his Flame during your Long Winter.”

With that, the dragon sat on his haunches and stared at them all, seeming to catch the Stark siblings hiding by the battlements. “Now, you shall speak, and I will listen,” the dragon announced.

The noise that erupted was insane. Sansa let go of Arya’s hand and covered her ears. She did not let her eyes away from the dragon. It seemed displeased at the noise.

“The Long Night,” someone said. “You speak of the Long Night. It is a myth!”

“Food stores that will last for ages!” someone else said. “How on earth do you expect us to save that much food? That’s insane! It would rot!”

“You can’t expect us to host another dragon willingly! You’re eating habits are going to starve us to death, we don’t have to wait for Winter!” Sansa’s mother yelled.

The dragon rumbled again, waiting for all the questions to stop.

“I will answer, and you will listen,” he said. “If the Long Night is a myth, it is the same in that dragons are a myth. Look at me, and tell me I am not real.”

He glared at all of them with great yellow eyes. No one moved, or breathed, their courage all deserting them as they all suddenly remembered that yes, dragon.

“I will teach you how to preserve food that will last for years,” he added, looking at Master Wolken, who looked incredibly pale under the dragons attention. “And lastly, it is an exchange. If I was to give you knowledge that was incredibly valuable, then I must also get something of equal value.”

Sansa felt that knowledge settle deep in her bones. Equal Value.

“My child will not eat as much, but he will still eat, since he is the Eternal Flame. But he will also hunt, so it will be a fair trade,” the dragon finished. “I will go now, but I will come back. You must all decide wisely, for my time here is not long.”

The dragon left, as though he had not rearranged their entire lives.

“The Long Night,” Bran said. “And people called Old Nan crazy!”

“Do you think it will be very cold?” Arya asked.

Sansa shivered. “I hope everything will be alright,” Sansa said. “But father will do his best.”

Robb’s hands were warm against her back but he looked terrified.

.

That night, Sansa dreamed. The dragon had looked at her, she knew. Looked at her and found her worthy. Sansa hadn’t realized how lonely she felt among her family, that with just a look, a dragon could make her feel less alone.

“Child,” he spoke, voice calmer and less of a rumbling mass of force. “Why do you weep?”

“There are no more Stark Monarchs,” she whispered. “And our people are divided. We may yet die. I will fight for my people, but I do not know how.”

He hummed. “If I teach you, you will know. You will learn.”

“But will it hurt? Equal Value,” Sansa whispered.

The dragons eyes gleamed. “You listen well. I admire that. But the price for what I will teach you is without measure. You will know what your payment is when my child arrives.”

.

Every night Sansa slept, she dreamed of the dragon.

He taught her about leadership, about duty and about Stark Magic.

“Monarchy for the Starks is less about the title and more about the Magic, and the duty to the people,” Gilgamesh lectured. “Luckily for you, you are almost of age. Once you have turned eighteen, do not kneel for anyone. You may bow, but you must never kneel.”

“Does that mean, that we lost the title of Kings of Winter when we knelt, not when the crown was melted?” Sansa asked.

“Yes, for kings and queens will only kneel when they are conquered,” he said. “Now, have you found the Heart of Winterfell yet, Sansa?”

Sansa had found the hot springs, and the lesson proceeded.

.

.

Sansa understood what Gilgamesh meant when, a few days later, they receive news that the dragon was dead and Lord Bolton started talking about taking off the head as a trophy.

She entered the meeting chamber, with all the lords present and her siblings behind her watching her in awe.

“No,” she said to all those powerful men. “Gilgamesh the dragon, the truth speaker, will not have his head made into a trophy. He deserves better than that. He deserves to buried, or to be left alone. Let his bones rest peacefully, for he did us a great service.”

Father looked proud and everyone else looked at her strangely. Sansa stood tall and remembered not to be afraid. She would miss Gilgamesh desperately, but she knew it was his time.

And all of Winterfell waited for the arrival of the Eternal Flame, the great dragon and child of Gilgamesh the oracle; they were unprepared for the arrival of a teenaged boy carrying a sword.

.

.

“My name is Cor Leonis,” the boy said, eyes slitted like a cats – no - a dragons. Other than the scales in his arms and the horns pushing through his hair, he looked like a normal boy. “My father, Gilgamesh, bade me to come here.”

“You are the Eternal Flame, the great dragon?” Eddard Stark asked. He looked the boy up and down appraisingly. “You are smaller than I expected.”

Cor huffed, and a curl of smoke escaped his mouth. “I thought coming as a dragon would be alarming and eye catching. Also, I eat less in this shape.”

Everyone relaxed at that last sentence and Sansa had to hold back her giggles.

Perhaps it wasn’t as quiet as she thought, since his yellow eyes flicked to her immediately. He stared and Sansa stared back. The little bit of scale she could see peeking out of his clothes were fascinating. Weeks and weeks of having Gilgamesh as her teacher and she no longer feared dragons.

Eddard Stark cleared his throat pointedly, making Cor’s eyes snap to him again. “Kindly do not stare at my daughter,” he said pointedly.

“She smells of my father’s scent. He has crowned her a queen,” Cor announced, to absolute pandemonium.

.

.

There was, inevitably, a meeting.

Father, mother, Robb and all the lords who were given instructions to keep quiet. Lady Mormont looked intrigued. And of course, Cor Leonis.

“Sansa, tell us everything,” Mother said. “Where were you meeting the dragon and when?”

Sansa shook her head. She placed her hands on her lap and stared at them all quietly. “I met him in my dreams. Gilgamesh asked me for why I was crying even in my sleep, and I told him I worried that everyone in the North was going to starve despite our best efforts, because there were no more Stark Monarchs ever since the Targaryen Conquest. He said that it did not matter, because he would teach me.”

“Why you!?” Robb burst out, looking frustrated and worried in equal measure. “Surely I could hold it better.”

Cor sighed. “Gil chose her, because when she heard about blood and the Heart Tree, she was willing to bleed to death at its roots, if only to provide her people with a bit of summer.”

“Sansa,” Mother whispered, face pale. “Dear one…”

Father rounded on Cor. “She does not have to die to provide us all summer. We can manage the food stores.”

“No, a good monarch chooses duty over all else, even family,” Cor pointed out. “That, and having a heart of compassion. Can you look at her and tell me that Gil chose wrong?”

There was silence and then laughter from Lady Mormont.

“Look at all you men, alarmed that a woman was chosen,” she laughed. “If it was your boy, Bran, chosen, this would not be so troubling. But because she is a woman, you are all questioning her. Leave her be. Teach her, she is already chosen by the dragon.”

“Gil has already taught me,” Sansa said. “And we need to dig under the Glittering Crag. It has silicone sand, Gil said. A bit of steel and glass, and all of the North will have glass gardens. It’ll be a bit of a stretch, but we can then have Glass Farms!”

Sheer, utter pandemonium.

Sansa watched Cor give a small smile and wanted to see it again.

.

.

Winterfell and Wintertown became a hive of activity.

Cor’s use became evident as he started sketching out diagrams, teaching people to read and then just overhauling their entire education system just so that he could have skilled workers.

He drew out plans, scouted out the terrain, hunted some deer and slept as a boy by the large hearth of the castle.

Sansa never saw his dragon shape and she yearned to. She wondered if he would be as big as his sire, and felt her cheeks heat when she remembered his strength in singlehandedly holding up the roof of the workshop so that the people could hammer in the nails.

But Sansa had no time to think about that, except in the dead of the night.

Now that she was announced heir, all the duties that Robb had fell on to her, and some of Fathers and Mothers as well.

In retaliation, she conscripted Jeyne to be her right hand and Beth to supervise what Cor and the workers were up to in making the glass farms.

Sansa was busy, so she neglected her siblings. This was a mistake, because the next thing she knew, Arya had launched a mud pie at her dress as she was crossing the courtyard.

She felt numb. She had embroidered the dress personally, and sewn on the bodice. The dress was her once a year allowance to buy cloth. And Arya had just ruined it. She went away inside so that she wouldn’t cry and continued to walk, ignoring the mud and everyone smiling meanly at her.

She would have started crying in her office, except that Cor immediately swooped in and scolded Arya, her other siblings watching and all the spectators who did nothing to stop it.

Sansa stopped and stared, feeling warmer and touched that someone, at least, understood.

And Arya had to ruin it by opening her large mouth.

“You’re just defending her because she’s pretty!” Arya said meanly. “You’re such a boy, even if you’re a dragon.”

Cor just. Stopped. His eyes contracted and his hands clenched. Behind him, there was a massive rip as his trousers tore and his massive tail manifested, an evidence of his loss of temper.

“What does that have to do with respect?” Cor demanded. “I would defend her even if she was a boy, and not just because she’s pretty. She’s working herself to the bone for all of you, and you, you spoiled child, are not even helping her. She is exhausted every day, and you throw mud at her. She has managed to singlehandedly allocate supplies for three years, more if I’m counting right. A couple more months and she can manage to store food for five. That’s just from what I’ve seen. Meanwhile, I have never seen you work a day in your life.”

Sansa continued walking and felt like she was flying.

.

.

Sansa never really talked to Cor alone, because their duties ran parallel and didn’t really intersect. Aside from that first meeting, she and Cor were rarely alone.

That changed, because as soon as Sansa changed her clothes and had a bath, she sought him out where he was checking barrels for storing barley and flour.

“Ser Cor,” she said. “Thank you.”

He stood up. He seemed to have changed trousers as well and his eyes shone in the dark of the cellar. “Not a Ser. And there is no need for thanks. I am sorry I lost my temper. My manifestation must have been a surprise.”

Sansa shook her head. “No, never! I mean, you have been holding your shape for months on end. You must manifest sometimes.”

“You’re…not afraid,” he said, less a question and more a statement.

“No,” she said quietly. Up close, his eyes weren’t really yellow but a lovely shade of burnished gold that refracted the light. His hair was many shades of dark brown. “No. At the start, I may have been afraid of Gilgamesh, but as I knew him, I was no longer afraid. But you…I was never afraid of you.”

And then…he _smiled_.

.

In the dark of the night, when she was all alone and no one was around, Sansa remembered that smile and pressed cool hands to hot cheeks.

.

Later, many months later, when the Long Night came and Cor manifested fully as a grown dragon and breathed fire to keep everyone in Winterfell warm, Sansa would remember being the only one who did not cower at his size.

She held her head high and did not bow to him and Cor hummed in pleasure.

And when the food stores would get low, Sansa would bleed. The howling winds would lessen and her people would be able to hunt, watched and protected by Cor’s dragon eyes.

The first three years were fine and Cor continued to push people to salvage. Sansa knew that it would last longer than five years and agreed with him. Getting food from the other kingdoms would do for later, when the stores were almost empty.

The Glass Farms proved their weight in gold when it kept everyone in the North fed for years. Sansa was thoroughly sick of radishes and scallions, and so was everyone else, she suspected. She missed real meat that was not preserved or salted or broiled.

The last two years, as Sansa would remember, were the hardest. The glass farms had a leak from all the ice and stopped production for three months. Sansa finally had to asked her father to ship food from Essos.

“And if all else fails, we can ask the Reach,” Sansa said.

“They charge through the nose,” Father muttered. His cheeks were thin, but he was flush with health. The heat Cor produced just by being near was significant.

“Needs must,” Sansa sighed. “And we can sell all the wool we’ve been making.”

Given that some days, the snow fall was crazy, everyone had been spinning wool. Or carving. Or sewing. Or some variation of all three.

.

Cor finally finished the copper tubes he had asked for and installed them in every house in the North. There was a great deal of grumbling as no carpenter or tradesman wanted to be out in the snow. But the promise of warm houses forever more was too good to pass up.

He breathed a long and sustained flame in every house hearth and the flame settled on the logs and didn’t consume wood. It sat on the wood, but did not burn. It was warmer than ordinary fire.

“Is that…the Eternal Flame?” Sansa had to ask. Both of them sat in her solar, as was their custom after a long day of work.

Cor shook his head. “It is just dragon fire. Gilgamesh was being poetic.”

Sansa giggled and Cor smiled at her fondly.

“Cor,” she said when the fire was winding down and her eyes drooped. “When the winter is over, will you stay?” _With me?_ She wanted to add, but was too afraid to do so.

Cor’s eyes dilated, as they did when he was experiencing great emotion. “Sansa, my queen. I would stay until you tell me to leave.”

With her heart in her throat, Sansa held out a hand, and Cor held it carefully, aware of the scales in his fingers. She felt warm and it had nothing to do with Cor’s heat.

“As queen in all the North,” she told him, like she’s sharing a secret. “I can marry who I wish.”

“As a dragon of magic and fire,” he answered. “No one dictates who I marry.”

The first kiss tasted like heat and magic and Sansa finally, finally understood Gilgamesh’s price.

.

.

Staring down at her first born, Sansa looked at the golden eyes and dark scales.

“His name shall be Gillian,” she announced.

.

In the afterlife, Gilgamesh laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments please!
> 
> (AND yes, I know. I seem to keep writing Cor as a Dragon, but really. Really.)


End file.
